


The Good Times

by The_Red_Queen_Ships_The_Ships



Category: All Time Low (Band), Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alex has to write a song, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Band cameos, Brendon smokes weed in the teachers room, Characters will be tagged later, Dan is a principal and Phil is a science teacher, Dialogue Heavy, Every band member is here jfc, Everyone is a Senior, Except Mikey lol, Fluff and Humor and Angst, Frank is the president of a music club, Gerard is an artist, Hot Topic is a holy place, Josh and Tyler are always in the background lmao, M/M, Memes with a side of pain, No one knows what they're gonna do after high school, Pete had a crush on Mikey in middle school, Pete writes emo poetry on MySpace, Plans For The Future, Song references, That's going to be fun, There are a lot of memes here lmao, This is just my excuse to write down all my thoughts and insecurities about college down, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, angst everywhere, break ups, everyone has problems, guess which one, nobody is straight, patrick is an angel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 09:23:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13610355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Red_Queen_Ships_The_Ships/pseuds/The_Red_Queen_Ships_The_Ships
Summary: "I never want to leave this shitty town." "Just focus on the good times."There's only a month left until the seniors at Yeemo High School graduate, but everything's falling apart. Brendon is having doubts about college, Patrick and Pete aren't talking to each other, Gerard is hiding things from his boyfriend, and Ryan won't stop mysteriously disappearing. What's a group of friends to do?





	1. A Detention Deficiency

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to write this after listening to All Time Low, and I was originally going to post this on Wattpad, but the website keeps screwing me over.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank Iero is the type of friend who has keys to the teacher's lounge.

"What did you do _this_ time?"

Brendon Urie rolled his eyes at his science teacher. His Vans were propped up on his desk as he leaned back in his chair. He wished he had his phone to text someone or watch funny videos about cats on Youtube, but it was taken away at the beginning of detention. Brendon was cut off from the rest of the world, and it annoyed him.

It was Friday afternoon and he was the only one in after-school detention. This was going to be fun.

Mr. Lester sighed. "Brendon, you're in here after school almost every day. Why do you always get in trouble?"

"It's not my fault the teachers here suck," Brendon retorted childishly. "All I did was smoke a little weed."

"A _little_?"

"I mean, my definition of a little may be different from yours, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't _that_ much."

Mr. Lester sighed. He leaned against his desk and crossed his arms. He tried to give Brendon a disappointed look but with his soft face and naturally kind eyes, it was like watching a baby suck a lemon. "Brendon, you're a senior now. Not only that, you're also only one month away from graduating. If you don't clean up your act soon, colleges will kick you out."

"I'm pretty sure college professors also smoke the Devil's lettuce."

"Why are you like this?" Mr. Lester groaned.

Brendon was getting anxious. He dropped his feet onto the floor and began tapping on his desk. The nerves in his body were lighting up and he _had_ to go somewhere to burn off all the energy in his body. How much longer was detention? He felt like he'd been here for hours. He glanced at the large analog clock that was three hours behind and noticed that only ten minutes had passed. Damn. 

"You know, I have half a mind to tell your parents about your behavior," Mr. Lester was grumbling. 

"I'm eighteen, Mr. Lester, you can't snitch on me to my parents anymore."

His teacher rolled his blue eyes and pulled out his Blackberry. He waved it menacingly in Brendon's face. "Don't test me, child."

"Wait!" Brendon was getting a little bit worried. Was he really going to call his parents? Brendon could almost see the disappointed and surprised look in his mother's eyes (and the less surprised look in his father's). "You don't actually have their numbers, right?"

"I have them on speed dial."

Brendon groaned and let his head fall on the table. "This sucks. I just wanted to unwind a little."

"By smoking weed in the teacher's lounge? How did you even _get_ the keys?"

 "I have friends in holy places," Brendon mumbled.

"What kind of friends have the keys to the teacher's lounge?" _Frank Iero is the kind of friend who has keys to the teacher's lounge,_ Brendon said in his head. He was afraid of what Frank had in his pockets. 

"Well, that depends on what you qualify as friends."

It was quiet for a few minutes. Brendon closed his eyes, thinking they were finally entering the "quiet" part of detention now. His nerves were ragged and he didn't smoke enough to calm himself down. He couldn't believe he got caught. His old Phys Ed teacher had just happened to crave coffee and saw Brendon sprawled on the coffee table shirtless. Suffice to say, Mr. Babaski did not get any caffeine that morning.

 After what seemed like seven minutes, Mr. Lester sighed. "Brendon?"

"I thought detention was supposed to be quiet so that I can reflect on my bad behavior and strive to improve them," Brendon grumbled. 

"Don't get sassy with me, mister," Mr. Lester said jokingly. "And I'm a rubbish person to be in charge of detention."

"Your British accent is showing. This is America. We don't say "rubbish" any more than we say "bollocks"." 

"I do _not_ say bollocks!" 

"Horton hears a bitch ass liar."

Mr. Lector pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is not where I imagined this conversation to be going."

Brendon glanced at the clock again. He still had over half an hour left. "Can you give me a break? Like, let me go out early on a warning? I'm a busy man with things to do."

Mr. Lester stared at Brendon. "I currently have over fifty-nine tests to grade and class plans for the next two weeks to prepare. Don't talk to me about being busy."

"I mean, that's your fault for deciding to be a teacher-"

"Brendon, are you okay?" Mr. Lester interrupted.

 The senior paused. He slowly lifted his head off the table and frowned at his teacher. "Um, I don't understand the question."

"Brendon, you're a good student," Mr. Lester started. "Ignoring all the missing assignments you've never turned in, your inability to keep your mouth closed for more than three seconds, and the fact that you do drugs in the teacher's lounge, you're remarkable."

"Are you trying to compliment me or...?"

"I don't want to be _that_ teacher, but you have so much potential you don't use. You could do amazing things if you only tried."

"You're literally being _that_ teacher."

"Brendon, I want to help you."

Brendon snorted. "Good luck with that. I already have two therapists, a shitty counselor, Adderall, and Xanax helping me."

Mr. Lester's eyes looked sad. "Why did you smoke weed in the teacher's lounge?"

Brendon looked around the room for any hidden cameras. "Is this a trick? Is the principal going to drop from the ceiling any second? Oh my God, am I on Pranked?"

"Brendon-"

His teacher never got the chance to finish his sentence because the classroom door slammed open.

"Pete, what the _fuck_!"

Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III, a.k.a every teacher's worst nightmare, strolled into the classroom as if he owned the place. Behind him, Mikey Way gestured back at the slammed open door with an incredulous face. "Who kicks open a fucking door?" He asked to no one in particular.

"Hey," Mr. Lester frowned, clearly displeased at the two students' entrance. "Language."

"Oh great, my rides are here," Brendon jumped up. "Let me just pack my things-"

"Brendon, sit down," Mr. Lester frowned. "We still have to talk."

Brendon groaned and sat back down.

"What are you guys doing here?" He asked his friends. He hoped they would be able to get him out of this hellhole.

"I just got news from the principal, " Pete grinned, hooking his fingers through his belt loops. "Brendon is free for the day."

"What? Are you sure?"

"Positive. We had a talk with the big man down the hall and persuaded him to let our homeboy Urie out on a warning."

Mr. Lester shook his head. "That can't be true." 

"It is," Mikey said softly. He looked disinterested in the conversation and life in general. "Brendon needs to come with us for an important meeting." 

"A meeting?" Brendon interjected, face scrunched up in confusion. "A Frank Meeting? No one told me we were having that today."

"We sent everyone a group text," Mikey replied.

Brendon looked pointedly at his phone still resting on Mr. Lester's desk. Mikey rolled his eyes and grabbed Brendon's phone. He opened it and started texting on it. Brendon wasn't sure how he knew his password, but he wasn't surprised. Anyone affiliated with Frank Iero was dubious at best. Except for Patrick Stump. He was an angel.

"Come on, let's go."

"W-wait!" Mr. Lester exclaimed. "I can't just let you take someone from detention without written approval from-"

"Just call the principal," Pete interrupted, studying the types of vinyl Mr. Lester like to keep in his room. They were all old bands like Nirvana, Radiohead, and The Smiths, so no students were ever interested in them. Brendon liked those bands well enough, but he preferred Frank Sinatra over all of them. Pete obviously didn't share his taste in music because he whistled appreciatively and commented, "Damn, some of these are signed. I'll pay you thirty bucks for this one."

"What? _No!_ They're worth more than thirty dollars, Pete, and they're mine. Also, we're digressing." 

Pete looked up. "No shit, Mr. Lester, ask him himself. He'll tell you that he gave us permission."

"We'll see about that, lads," Mr. Lester said, picking up the school's phone and dialing a number.

' _Lads?',_ Mikey mouthed to Brendon.

He shrugged his shoulders. _'He's probably fucking with us'_ , he mouthed back. Mikey frowned at him because Brendon sucked at mouthing words.

"Hello?" Mr. Lester asked into the phone. "Dan? Did you give Pete Wentz and Michael Way permission to-- _oh_. Dan, what the heck?"

"And that's our signal to bounce," Pete said, hopping away from the pieces of vinyl.

Brendon discreetly snuck out of his chair and joined the others at the front, which didn't matter much because Mr. Lester was preoccupied with his phone call to Principal Howell. 

"Dan, just because they gave you a fifty dollar gift card to Hot Topic doesn't mean you can let them walk over you. I know you need more shades of black for your wardrobe to match your soul, but they aren't going to invent a darker color. Dan, just because it's fifty dollars-"

Pete, Brendon, and Mikey snuck out to the sounds of their science teacher arguing with their principal.


	2. There's No Such Thing As An Emo Aesthetic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George Ryan Ross III is a rat, but he's Brendon's rat.

Frank Iero leaned back in his chair, hands clasped on his chest as if he was going to pray. A strand of black hair fell into his eyes and he blew it away. Besides him, his boyfriend typed something into his computer. It didn't take long until a familiar guitar chord was strummed. Music filled the air.

Frank laughed. "Green Day, really?"

"They're an American classic," Gerard Way retorted. He settled himself back on Frank's bed, where various papers and graphite pencils were scattered. Frank had tried to peek at what Gerard had been sketching earlier, but the taller teen almost bit him.

Frank loved Gerard, but, Jesus Christ, he was protective of his art.

Frank took a minute to appreciate his boyfriend. Gerard's dyed red hair was pulled back with a headband to keep strands from falling into his hair. His eyes were concentrated on his work, tongue sticking out slightly from his lips. Not for the first time, Frank thanked God for giving him someone as beautiful as Gerard.

Gerard had been his close friend for years before they even started dating. Frank was the new kid in Mr. Rosters' fifth-grade class and Gerard was the kid who wore tiaras and tutus to school. They got detention together one day-- Frank had accidentally said shut the fuck up to a classmate who was coughing while Gerard punched a kid in the face for calling him gay-- and they somehow clicked. Frank couldn't imagine a life without Gerard in it.

"Hey, babe?" Frank called out.

"What is it?" He mumbled, barely looking up.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful and goddamn amazing you are?"

"If you're trying to get me to clean your room again, I'm not fucking doing it," Gerard said, rolling his eyes.

"It was worth a try."

Frank's bedroom door opened and his mom peeked her head in. "Are you boys doing all right?" She asked, pushing a lock of black hair behind her ear. She smiled sweetly at Gerard, who waved back at her. Gerard had spent so much time at his house that Frank's mom considered him her son-in-law already. You wouldn't believe how overjoyed she was when she found out they were dating.

"Hey mom," Frank said, leaning back in his chair. "What's up?"

"Your friends are here."

"Cool, which ones?"

"The emo, the forehead, and Mikey," she counted off on her fingers.

Frank sighed. "I was expecting Ryan or Patrick but let them in."

His mom paused for a second to study the two boys, her mouth curling up slightly. "I can't believe you two are already seniors," she said proudly, pressing a hand to her chest. "So grown up and ready to face the world. And for a while, I was scared you two would wear eyeliner and women jeans forever, but now you're going to college!"

Gerard coughed awkwardly. "Thanks, Mrs. Iero."

She laughed. "I told you to call my mom, Gerard. Mama, if you're feeling risky."

"Mom!" Frank exclaimed, face growing red. "You can leave now!"

His mom rolled his eyes at him. "You don't have to be jealous, Frankie. It's not my fault your boyfriend shows more affection to me than you do. If you would call me your sweetheart, I"ll maybe then sing you a song or bake you a cookie or something."

"Mom, if you don't leave right now, I swear to God I'm going to put on my old eyeliner and  _smudge_  it."

"Oh,  _l'horror_!" She faux-gasped, clutching her imaginary pearls. She then shook her head and smiled at them. "I'll tell your friends they can come in. Have fun at your emo meeting."

"It's not an emo meeting, Mom!" Frank called after her as she left the room. "It's more like an idea!"

Brendon, Pete, and Mikey shuffled into the room not too long after that. Frank spun in his office chair and grinned at them. "Welcome, friends. Why don't you leave your overcoats, canes, and top hats with the doorman? We have a lot to discuss."

Brendon rolled his eyes and settled on Frank's black beanbag chair. Pete stood near the door and Mikey leaned against the wall, texting someone.

"Hey," Pete said, "where did the party go? We're missing people."

Frank chewed on his bottom lip. "Hayley is doing some important after-school thing while Ryan is God knows where. That little rat isn't answering my texts."

"Hey!" Brendon snorted from the beanbag. "Ryan may be a rat, but he's  _my_ rat."

"You're both rats," Gerard quipped from the bed. "But we love you guys anyway."

"Thanks, Gee."

"No problem, Forehead."

Frank ignored the conversation and turned to Pete. "Pete, have you seen Patrick? He said he was probably going to come but I have no idea where he is right now."

Pete suddenly looked nervous. He ran a hand through his now black hair-- he had dyed it so many times now that Frank was afraid the color would permanently be rainbow-- and dropped his gaze to the ground. "Why would you ask  _me_? It's not like I have him chipped or anything."

"I mean, you two are dating, aren't you?" Brendon asked, eyebrow raised at Pete. "I'd assume you keep tabs on each other, especially if there's an important event. Maybe get the NSA to help you."

"Yeah? And where's Ryan? Aren't  _you_  two dating?"

Brendon wrinkled his nose at the mention of his on-again-off-again boyfriend, Ryan Ross. They were the only couple Frank knew who broke up and got back together as many times as they did. Frank remembered their sophomore year when Ryan broke up with Brendon after he lost his guitar strap, but they made up after Ryan found it in their neighbor's pool. How did it get there? He didn't want to know.

"I literally had my phone taken away since school ended, how was I supposed to know? And I thought we already established the fact that we were both rats."

"Stop arguing, you two!" Frank snapped. "Let's just continue and worry about Ryan and Patrick later."

"Maybe they're hooking up," Gerard commented, eyes still locked on his sketch.

"Ew, no," Brendon groaned. "Patrick and Pete are meant to be and should never be separated."

"That's what you said about Pete and Mikey," Gerard pointed out.

"Don't remind me about that," Mikey, who had been immersed in his phone (probably texting Ray) up to this point, wrinkled his nose. He had an indescribable expression on his face.

"Mikey still has the poems Pete wrote to him in a shoebox."

"What the fuck, Gerard, no I _don't_!" Mikey yelled, face burning up. Apparently, he  _could_  show emotions.

"He likes to take them out and read them when nobody's looking. Sometimes I hear him say, _'What the fuck, Pete'_ really quietly."

"Gerard, what the  _fuck_!"

Brendon laughed. "Oh yeah, middle school Pete had such a huge crush on Mikey. It was disgustingly cute."

"Let's stop talking about this," Mikey demanded, glaring at Brendon.

Pete ducked his head. His expression was pained. Frank made a mental note to check in on him later.

"Okay, Killjoys," Frank clapped, catching the attention of everyone in the room. "Let's get this meeting started."

"Is it only going to be us?" Brendon asked, looking around.

Frank nodded. "We don't need the entire club here. It's our special meeting."

The club Frank was referring to was the Music Foundry club. It was created a couple of years ago by then-sophomore Andy Biersack, the hottest guy on the entire planet, and Frank won the title of president after he left. His group of friends slowly trickled into the club until it because more of a hangout and less of a serious club. Their friends had a lot of great and terrible memories in the club, such as the Warped Tour simulation incident and the Drunk Brendon Accident. Frank wasn't there when it happened, but the club had to apologize to every staff member and fedoras were now banned from school.

Frank's Meetings were small club meetings for only a select few members of the club. No one really knew what was the actual point of these meetings, but that didn't stop people from coming.

"So it's just going to be me, you, Pete, and Gerard?" Brendon asked doubtfully.

"No, we're here too!" A head popped out from underneath Frank's bed.

Brendon screamed bloody murder. Pete jumped up ten feet in the air and knocked into Mikey, who scowled at him. Pete blushed and mumbled apologies, which made Mikey's face soften a little.

"You scream like a goddamn banshee."

His words were still as harsh as ever, however.

Tyler Joseph blinked owlishly at Brendon, clearly not understanding what he did wrong. He scrambled out from under the bed, his band t-shirt hanging loosely on his skinny frame. He turned to Frank. "There are so many weird things under your bed. I think I saw a goldfish there."

Gerard perked up. "Party Poison?" He asked hopefully, referring to the name of a goldfish Frank got during a carnival. He had lost it at least eleven months ago.

Tyler shrugged. "No idea. I think its fish ghost body was hanging around the body and bit me."

"Where the fuck did you come from?" Brendon demanded, hand held to his chest. He was breathing heavily. "You scared my nipples right off my chest."

"Ew," Gerard wrinkled his nose.

"The bed," Tyler said as if it was obvious.

" _Why_?"

"Well, Josh and I didn't want to be left out of the emo meeting--"

"It's not an emo meeting, its a place where ideas are born," Frank interrupted.

"--and so we decided to sneak into Frank's house and--"

"Wait, where's Josh?" Brendon asked. "You said the both of you snuck in here, right?"

"Hi," a voice from the closet said. It opened and Josh Dun's head popped out. "How's it going?"

Brendon, whose beanbag was situated near the closet door, screamed and knocked over a lamp.

"You're paying for that," Frank said after everyone stared at it for a few minutes in silence.

"I'll pay you in drugs."

"That lamp represents me in a way nothing else ever had," Pete commented. "I'm going to write emo poetry about it and post it on MySpace."

"Can I get back to my story?" Tyler asked, crossing his arms childishly.

"Sure, go ahead," Gerard said.

"Okay, so our plan didn't work obviously because Gerard and Frank came in and were seconds away from doing the Devil's Tango--"

"But why were you in the closet?" Brendon demanded Josh, too distressed to make a gay joke, which was rare. Almost as rare as people who still went on MySpace.

"Because I'm not real," Josh said mysteriously, doing jazz hands. "I'm just part of your imagination."

"What the  _fuck_ \--"

Tyler threw a pillow at Brendon before he could finish his sentence. "Excuse me," he snapped. "Could you please leave?"

"Woah, I love throwing things at Brendon!" A new voice chimed in. "I want to throw a milk jug at his face."

Frank stood up and pointed a finger at the person standing in the doorway. No one had heard him come in. "Ryan, you  _rat_!"

"Guilty," George Ryan Ross III shrugged, blowing a strand of hair out of his eyes. "I hope I'm not late for the emo meeting."

_"It's not an emo meeting!"_


End file.
